


The Prince's Heart

by goodwineandcheese



Category: Monster
Genre: Bard Grimmer, Birds, Disney Princess Tenma, Evil Eva, Evil Johan, F/M, Happy Ending, M/M, Magical Fairytale Forest, Rescue Tenma, True Love, fairytale AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 15:25:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16121345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodwineandcheese/pseuds/goodwineandcheese
Summary: A Snow White-esque Fairytale AU. The lovely Queen Eva seeks to marry an equally beautiful man, and has set her sights upon Prince Tenma of a foreign land. When he refuses her advances, she intends to chase him down to steal his heart for herself. Will the Prince find refuge in the wild and dangerous world, or be made to love the vain Queen despite his wishes?





	The Prince's Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one a bit differently than my usual stories! Instead of my internal “character writing” style I wrote this more like a straight fairytale...complete with ridiculous tropes, lmao. This fic is the cheeseballest cheeseball fic to ever cheese. 
> 
> I know that canonically Johan is supposed to be the most beautiful person but for the sake of this AU he’s a little more sallow faced...so that Tenma can be the pinnacle of beauty. It’s important for this fic...
> 
> I made this as "fairytale-esque" as possible, so characters aren't _necessarily_ gonna sound like themselves. Tenma's pure pureness was hella stretched for example, lol. This is an extreme Disney Princess AU.
> 
> This was cute and fun to write, I hope you have as much fun reading it!

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful kingdom. It was ruled by a radiant Queen, whose beauty knew no equal. Yet the Queen found herself lonely in her solitary rulership. She desired a partner, a man of equal beauty to become her King. To find such a prince, the Queen called upon the magic of her sorcerer.

_“Oh Johan, Oh Johan, your gifts I require; reveal to me the man I desire.”_

The sorcerer replied, with a wave of his hand,

_“My Lady Queen, upon the mirror the face of the man you desire shall appear.”_

And so an image did appear; the image of a man whose beauty was without equal. Hair as dark as night, eyes that shone like stars, the grace of any dancer and a smile like the sun. 

Queen Eva was taken with him immediately. “Tell me more,” she demanded.

And so the sorcerer did. With a wave the image began to move. The handsome Prince was going about his way in a lovely garden, tending the flowers with care. The sorcerer then spoke,

“Prince Kenzo Tenma comes from a faraway land to the east. He travels in hopes to discover a cure for his ailing mother. If you present it thus, he will surely take your hand.”

The sorcerer held out to her a beautiful blue rose. “This shall heal his mother’s illness.”

“I shall have him be mine, and we shall rule happily together.” declared the beautiful Queen. And so she sent her best and noblest men to escort the Prince to her castle. Being a man of a humble and kind heart, the Prince accepted the invitation to meet the Queen of this foreign land. 

The Prince was brought to the Queen’s vast castle, and bowed before her radiance. 

“Lady Queen, I am humbled before you,” he said. “What is it that you wish of me?”

Queen Eva rose and gestured to the Prince. “Stand, and look upon me.”

The prince did so.

“Prince Kenzo Tenma, the most beautiful man in all lands, I wish to take you for my husband. Together, you and I shall be the most beautiful King and Queen to rule in all history. In exchange, I offer you this flower.”

The Queen held out a hand, and within her palm there sat a beautiful blue rose, far lovelier than any to be found in any garden.

“This rose will heal any illness. You may use it as you please.”

He did not reach for the rose.

The Prince bowed low and stood, looking upon the Queen with a radiant smile.

“I thank you for this offer,” he began, “but I cannot accept.”

“And why not?” asked the Queen.

“Because,” said the Prince, “We have only just met. I wish to love freely, and to find where my heart calls home on my own terms. Your beauty is unmatched my Queen, but my heart does not belong here.”

“Very well,” said the Queen, “but please stay the night in my castle.”

The Prince accepted.

Queen Eva retreated to her quarters and began to pace back and forth. She had not expected her rejection, and was humiliated. Never in her life had Queen Eva been refused!

“How dare he,” she fumed, “how dare he! I am a Queen, and the loveliest! I shall have the handsomest groom at my side! I will accept no less!”

Once again, the Queen called upon the power of her sorcerer.

_“Oh Johan, Oh Johan, my patience runs thin; show me the way to the heart I must win.”_

Magic snapped and crackled with a wave of the sorcerer’s hand. Once again, the mirror began to shift and change, depicting a scene most grim. The Prince lay prone upon his bed, while the sorcerer extracted his heart, skewered upon a silver blade. 

“You must carve his heart from his chest, my Queen, and bring it to me. I will weave my magics into it, and return his heart to him. Then, his heart will belong only to you.”

The mirror went dark, and the sorcerer disappeared. 

The Queen could not carve out his heart herself, for she loathed to damage such beauty with her own hands. And so, she called upon the swiftest of her noble knights.

“Sir Lunge, my loyal knight. You will bring to me the heart of Prince Tenma. Do this, and you shall have my eternal gratitude.”

The noble knight bowed before his Queen. “It shall be done.”

The knight stole into the Prince’s chambers, but he did not raise his blade upon the sleeping man. The noble knight had seen the kindness of the Prince, and heard his plea to love freely. He could not in good conscience steal the Prince’s heart, not even for his Queen.

“Wake, Prince Tenma,” said the knight. He spoke quietly, to not be heard beyond the Prince’s chambers.

The Prince woke in a fright.

“Who are you!” he cried. “Please leave me in peace!”

“Be silent, Prince, I come only with a warning.” The Knight revealed both hands before him to prove his sincerity, and the Prince did calm.

“The Queen has asked me to carve out your heart. She will not stop until you return her love.”

Sadness and fear took the Prince, and he clutched his chest.

“But I do not love her. I do not feel it in my heart!” he cried mournfully. “You mustn’t!”

The Knight reached toward the Prince and took his hand. “I shall not carve out your heart. Come with me, and I will take you far away. Then you must run. You must run, and never return.”

The Prince decided to trust the noble Knight.

Into the halls they fled, and out through the courtyard, then to the woods beyond. 

“Now go,” whispered the Knight, “fly, quickly!”

“Please knight, give me your name. I must remember you for this noble deed!”

“It is Sir Heinrich Lunge, kind Prince. Now go. I must be away, and so must you.” 

The Prince ran deep into the woods. He ran and ran, but eventually came to a stop, his tender heart filling with despair.

“Oh where am I to go?” he cried, falling to his knees. “Where am I to go? I mustn’t return home without a cure, but I am no longer safe in this land. How am I to continue?”

“Oh Prince,” came a small voice, “You mustn’t give up now!”

“Yes,” chirped another, “The knight has been slain, and you will be next!”

The Prince looked up with a startle to see two bramblings flitting about him in circles. One fluttered down to land on his shoulder, and brushed its feathered head against his cheek.

“Rise, Prince, rise! There is a safe place for you in the clearing up ahead!”

The second began tugging at his sleeve, flapping its small wings. “Hurry, hurry! Hurry now!”

Yet the Prince continued to despair, weeping openly into his hands.

“The Knight is dead,” he wailed, “The noble knight is dead because of me!”

The bramblings flitted more anxiously. 

“And so you mustn’t be captured!” the first one twittered.

“Yes, yes, or else it will be in vain!” chirped the next.

With a gasp, Prince Tenma relented. It was true. He could not allow the noble knight Heinrich Lunge to die without purpose.

Slowly, Prince Tenma rose to his feet. The bramblings lifted from him, and led him through the twisting woods, until a bright light appeared in the distance. The nearer he drew, the brighter it became, until he could see a clearing, and a cottage beyond. The bramblings hovered on the edge of the meadow, but did not fly ahead.

“We cannot go further,” said the first brambling, “but you can! You will be safe there!”

The Prince trusted the kind birds. He smiled a warm smile. “Thank you both, for everything.”

Tired and hungry, the Prince stumbled into the meadow. He had barely made it into the bright and beautiful clearing when he collapsed, losing consciousness instantly.

When the Prince next awoke, it was to the comfort of a warm bed, and the lovely wafting scent of food. He was lulled into consciousness, until he recalled with a startle that he certainly hadn’t fallen asleep in such a place. Someone had moved the Prince!

“Do not sit up,” came a voice, “you’re in no shape to move.”

The Prince opened his eyes and looked upon the speaker. She was cloaked in white, though he could see her face - sallowed though she seemed young, with blonde hair and mysterious eyes as blue as the sky. 

“Who are you?” asked the Prince, but he obliged the voice and remained lying in bed.

“I am Nina, the witch of the woods,” she replied, “and this is my sanctuary. I have been told of your troubles, and of your great kindness. Because you are good to the wilderness, I shall allow you to remain safe in my home. The Queen cannot reach you in this place. But you must oblige my one condition.”

“What is it you ask of me?” asked the Prince. “If you desire my heart, then I must refuse. I will find my own way.”

“I shall not ask such a thing of you, Prince. I ask only that you aid me in tending the forest and this house. Injured animals flock to my sanctuary, but I must safeguard the whole of this forest. If you could help me to mind the forest’s edge, I will allow you to stay.”

The Prince accepted the Witch’s terms.

She brought to him a bowl of delicious soup, and the Prince began to eat until his belly was full and his strength began to return to him.

The Prince traded in his garb for more humble attire as he began to mind the woods by the Witch’s cottage. The Witch often left on long journeys into the distant woodland, leaving the Prince to care for the forest and her sanctuary for days on end. It was a peaceful way to live. He was happy.

The Witch of the Woods departed one day, and she said,

“I will be gone a long time. I ask that you mind the sanctuary in my absence. When I return, I shall be able to divine a cure for your ailing mother.”

She left without another word, and Prince Tenma did as the witch bade him. He cared for the cottage, for the animals, and for the plants.

One day, as the Prince was pulling vines from the trees, he was approached by a stranger.

The stranger was a wandering minstrel who had been passing through the woods to reach the next town, but had halted when he saw a man of incomparable beauty.

“You there,” said the man, with a smile and a wave, “a good day to you!”

“And a good day to you, sir.” responded the Prince.

“May I trouble you with a question?” asked the man. The Prince gave a nod.

“Would you be the long lost Prince who fled the Queen?”

A terror struck the Prince. Oh no, oh no! This man was surely a spy for the Queen!

Prince Tenma fled back into the sanctuary, hiding inside the Witch’s cottage.

The man did not relent, speaking calmly as he stepped inside the sanctuary.

“I mean no harm,” said the man, “you need not be frightened!”

Still the Prince remained inside.

The man was silent for a time, but then he did something peculiar.

He began to sing.

His voice was rich with colours that Tenma never knew a voice could carry. Sweet tones mixed with somber notes, uplifting lulls and jovial chimes. Why it was such an incredibly beautiful sound that the Prince was mesmerized. 

From the window, he watched, just out of sight, and listened. The man did not approach, he only sang. He seemed not to be armed, nor accompanied. Even the birds had begun to sing, joining his charming tune.

So mesmerized he was by this voice! Prince Tenma stepped outside.

“You sing with such beauty!” exclaimed the Prince. The man chortled.

“I should hope so, or else a poor minstrel I would make, and I shan’t be able to support my children and I!”

“Have you very many?” asked the Prince, most intrigued. The man smiled a warm smile.

“Indeed, three foundling boys! We live further to the west. I was on my way to see them when I spied you. I had been quite baffled to see the Prince in such a place!”

The Prince was enamoured. What a kind man, to take in three children that were not his own! But still, his secret must be kept. He looked upon the man.

“You must tell no one of me. Will you promise me this?”

The minstrel took his hand with glee and shook it.

“But of course, but of course! I shan’t tell a soul.”

“But how will I know?” asked the Prince, and the minstrel replied with a somber voice, “I bear a curse from the Queen’s wicked sorcerer. I hold no loyalty to the crown.”

Was it true? He did not know. He could not risk his safety. But the Prince had an idea. The Prince had a plan.

“I propose this to you, minstrel,” he began, “you fetch your sons, and come live in this sanctuary. There is plenty to eat, and warm shelter, and I will know for certain that you are telling the truth. Once I am satisfied, you may leave if you choose, and go on with your life as you please. Will you do this for me?”

The Witch of the Woods would not return for several weeks. Enough time for such an ordeal to come to fruition. 

And indeed, the man did accept.

“I shall fetch my sons, and then I shall return.”

As he turned to leave, the Prince called out one last time.

“But wait, I must know your name!” 

The minstrel turned with a sorrowful gleam in his eye.

“I haven’t one.”

Into the woods he disappeared, leaving the Prince to despair once more. A man with no name? Such tragedy! He had never heard of such a thing before. Was this the curse he spoke of?

So wrapped in thought was the Prince that he did not notice the scurrying of a fat rat at the edges of the sanctuary. The birds had gone silent and the beasts had gone still while the ugly rodent watched. With a cackle, the rat disappeared into the distance, and once more the forest returned to life and light.

The rat scurried all the way to the sorcerer to tell him what he had seen. 

“The Prince is here! The Prince is here!” it squeaked. “He resides in the forest of your twin!”

The sorcerer lifted the hideous little beast and stroked its fur.

“Good work, dear Otto. I must tell the Queen at once.”

“And then will you make me human again?” asked the rat.

The sorcerer smiled warmly down upon the creature, and set him down again.

“No, I shall not.”

The sorcerer left the rat to scurry about in a frenzy, and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

He appeared before the Queen, bowing to her royal beauty. “My Lady Queen,” the sorcerer began, “the Prince has been found.”

Queen Eva stood tall and proud. “I must have him at once. I shall send all of my strongest men.”

“No, Majesty,” warned the sorcerer. “He hides within my twin sister’s forest. Your men would not be able to follow. Her magics are near as strong as my own.”

With a flourish and a twirl, the sorcerer stood, a hand to his chest. “Send me alone. My magic will cancel my sister’s. I can enter the woods. I shall carve out the Prince’s heart, and make it so that he loves you and you alone.”

The Queen raised a hand high into the air. “Then it is done! Go to him, my sorcerer!”

The sorcerer dressed himself up in a magical veil, until his appearance mirrored that of the Witch of the Woods. The Prince would not recognize him in such a disguise. With a cackle, the sorcerer fled towards the witch’s woodland sanctuary.

* * *

The days began to pass in relative peace. The Witch of the Woods had still not returned, but Tenma and the minstrel without a name tended to the sanctuary, as did his three boys. It was a happy arrangement. 

One evening, after the boys had been put to bed, the minstrel and Prince simply sat together gazing at the stars.

“I would like to tell you my story,” said the minstrel. “Why I am a man without a name.”

The Prince was glad. He dared not ask such a question himself, but how he had wondered! “Please tell me,” he responded, “as much or as little as you like.”

The minstrel looked up at the stars and he smiled.

“I once served the Queen’s court. I played for the noble folk in the castle. However I learned something which was not to be known.”

“And what was that?” asked the Prince, with great intrigue.

The minstrel answered, “I discovered that the Queen possessed the magic of an evil sorcerer.”

“I saw his face,” said the minstrel, “and the sorcerer cursed me. He stole from me both my name and my heart and said that I shall not have them back, all for laying eyes upon his face.”

The minstrel laughed a sad and lonely laugh. The Prince wept tears for him, and the minstrel looked on, confused.

“Why do you cry?” he asked, and the Prince wiped at his eyes.

“I weep for all that you have lost.”

The minstrel smiled and his face warmed. “My Prince, you have a kind heart.”

Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to bliss. It was a happy place to live. And Prince Tenma had begun to notice something within himself.

When the minstrel sang, it was heard within his heart as well as his ears. But how could his heart feel sound? It was indeed a conundrum, and the Prince puzzled long over it.

The minstrel too began to wonder. Why was it that he so enjoyed to sing for the Prince and see his smile? Oh, how strange!

One morning, the minstrel bid farewell to the Prince, as he often did.

“I am taking my boys to play in the woods. I won’t be long.”

“Very well,” said the Prince, “I await your return.”

The Prince smiled his radiant smile, a smile which oft set the minstrel aglow. 

“Farewell Prince, I shall be glad to be back.”

Away the minstrel went, taking his boys into the woods to play. He once more found himself thinking upon the Prince’s smile. Such a glow filled his chest, a wonderful glow.

“Oh what a feeling,” thought the minstrel. “but if only I had a heart to know it.”

It was then that a pair of birds fluttered circles about him.

The minstrel watched the birds, and listened to them twitter. He did not understand the birds as the Prince did, but he understood their music very well.

“What is it you are telling me?” he asked, and the birds sang back in response. They sang and flew about one another, and the minstrel understood. Perhaps he could not speak to the birds, but he recognized the calls of love.

“Is that what this is?” he asked the birds. “Is that what I feel?”

Both birds flew circles about his head again before flying off into the distance. 

So this was the feeling of love...such a powerful thing, often the breaker of curses. Yet, he still held no name...so perhaps only love requited would break his curse.

But would the Prince love him back? Oh, surely not, he was merely a minstrel!

“Shall I tell him?” he asked, watching as his boys climbed in the trees. “Or shall I not?”

The minstrel plucked a daisy from the grass and began to count its petals. Tell him, or tell him not? Tell him, or not? Tell him…

With but a single petal left upon the little flower, the minstrel made up his mind.

He would tell the Prince.

* * *

As the minstrel played with his sons in the woods, a darkness encroached upon the sanctuary. As he had promised, the sorcerer’s dark magic cancelled the light of his sister, and so he was free to step inside the Witch’s forest, and into her sanctuary.

Disguised as the Witch of the Woods, he knocked upon the door of the cottage.

“My Prince,” he called, “I have returned.”

The cottage door opened, and the beautiful Prince stepped outside with a smile. “Welcome back Nina. It is wonderful to see you again.”

The sorcerer took not a moment more before he turned his magic upon the unsuspecting Prince. He raised his hand. In moments, the Prince had fallen into a deep, deep slumber.

_”Sleep now, Prince, do not awake_  
_For as you lie still, your heart I shall take_  
_And consume for myself, to grow my own power_  
_Be reborn sorcerer supreme on this hour.”_

Alas the Queen knew not the Sorcerer’s true plans. Such a wicked creature was he, gaining strength from the hearts of men. It had been said that the kindest of hearts granted incredible magics, and so Johan would devour the Prince’s whole! With such power, he could thwart his twin with ease. A fool she was, to shelter the Prince!

The sorcerer lay the Prince upon the grass, and drew a blade from his cloak. The birds began to screech, but there was little they could do to protect their beloved Prince.

Silver glinted in the sun’s light as the sorcerer raised the blade high into the air.

There was a cry from the woods, and there appeared the minstrel, with a face full of rage. 

“No!” he cried, his voice a roar, “you shall not steal from him what you stole from me!”

With the strength of a bear and the speed of wild lightning, the minstrel charged the sorcerer, and with bare hands alone knocked the deadly blade away from the dark magician. But such strength and speed came at a cost; he was not so powerful as to fight with such ferocity - the boost had been only temporary, strength borne of the horror upon seeing such a scene.

Yet the minstrel stood by the Prince, fighting a futile fight against dark magic that pierced flesh, that opened wounds, that stole the very breath from his lungs.

“Why fight?” asked the sorcerer. “Surrender him to me, and I will give back what is yours.”

The offer bore no sway upon the minstrel, who continued to guard the fallen Prince.

“If you wish to have his heart, then you must first end me!”

“Very well,” sneered the sorcerer, “then you shall perish.”

A sword of pure darkness appeared in the sorcerer’s hand. Battered and wounded, the minstrel could no longer stand to fight, and only knelt in defense of the Prince. 

Before he could be slain by the evil sorcerer, there was a blinding flash of light, and a clap of thunder. The woods came alive with a brilliant crackle of energy, the beasts empowered by a strange sort of magic. Birds flew toward the evil sorcerer, heckling and shrieking and battering him with their wings. 

With a cry, the sorcerer drew his cape about him.

“I concede this time sister,” he cried then, “but I will have the heart of the Prince!”

With a flourish, the sorcerer disappeared, and the fowl army dispersed. 

The minstrel looked on in shock to see the cloaked woman who stood in the clearing, with eyes like the sorcerer’s and a face to match.

“You defended the kind Prince,” she declared, “therefore I shall heal your wounds. Thank you, kind man, for your noble deeds.”

“Not yet,” the minstrel looked on to the Prince. “you must first see to him.”

The witch bore a face of confusion. “He sleeps peacefully, yet you are badly wounded. You would have me see to the Prince before yourself?”

The minstrel lay a hand upon his empty chest. “It wounds me more to worry for his health.”

The Witch of the Woods relented, turning her mystical gaze upon the Prince.

“My brother has placed him under a powerful curse. I shall try to break it.”

The Witch used the wealth of her magics to reach the Prince.

No matter what she tried, the Prince did not wake.

Jostled or shaken, prodded and nudged, the result was the same.

The Prince refused to wake.

With a dying feeling inside his soul, the minstrel leaned low over the Prince.

His chest did not rise.

He did not breathe.

The minstrel breathed air into the Prince’s lungs, yet it would not take.

The Prince would not wake.

“I fear,” spoke the Witch, “The Prince is no more.”

“Then you need not heal me, Witch,” replied the broken minstrel, “for I have failed him.”

“As you so wish.” replied the Witch, who too began to sorrow.

The minstrel held Prince Tenma within his arms and began to softly weep. 

As he wept, the birds and beasts gathered, wailing their own sorrowful bellows for the dearest Prince that had cared for them all. The minstrel’s sons too began to weep, quiet and pitiful. Such sorrow had never been seen inside the sanctuary before.

From the meadow, the finest of flowers were plucked, a bed prepared for the ever-sleeping Prince. Oh, how they mourned his loss! The Witch, who mourned her late return; the minstrel, who wished he could only have fought harder; the boys, who knew the kindness of the Prince; and the birds and beasts who had been cared for by him. Even the trees bent low in their sadness as the Prince was lain in his bed of white flowers, surrounded by those who missed him dearly.

Mournfully, the minstrel began to sing. His voice was hollow, a song in the name of the lost Prince. He sang his deepest emotions to the night, notes filled with regret and loss. How tragic, that only as the minstrel came to recognize his feelings was the Prince lost.

No bird could sing a sadder tune.

Yet the Prince was not so lost as it was believed.

Far, far away, in a dark abyss, the Prince could hear an echo. He heard the faintest of songs far in the distance, a song so sad it brought him to tears.

Oh poor, poor sad voice, why, how he wished to comfort the man!

Though sad, the voice did lull and entrance the Prince. He followed it through the dark, listening to the sorrowful calls as they grew louder and louder. 

And then, at last, his eyes began to open.

Up he gazed, and there he saw the minstrel whose voice was so lovely - the minstrel whose voice had charmed him once before, and had charmed him once again.

The Prince smiled a soft smile. “Don't cry, minstrel,” he soothed, “all will be well.”

The minstrel gazed on in shock. “You're alive!” he cried. “You're alive, but how can that be?”

Up the Prince reached, to take the minstrel’s hand.

“Your voice,” he replied. “Your voice guided me.”

He looked upon the man, wounded badly and holding him near. Oh, what pain had the minstrel endured? How had he suffered so?

“Come now,” the Prince breathed, “sit me up and let me look at you. I will treat those wounds. You need not suffer any longer.”

And so the minstrel did as he was asked. The Prince treated his wounds. And as he did, he felt that same certainty within his heart. That feeling he had felt before.

“Minstrel, I have a request.”

“And what might that be?” asked the minstrel.

The Prince held his hand and said,

“I wish to remain at your side, now and ever more. Will you be mine, kindest minstrel, as I wish to be yours?”

The minstrel was shocked. Surely it wasn't so!

“But my Prince, I am poor!”

“I care not for wealth.”

“But my Prince, I am but a commoner!”

“It is not status which stirs my heart.”

“But my Prince, I haven't a name for you to call me by, nor a heart of my own. However could you want me?”

“Minstrel, do you not love me?”

The minstrel was silent. Indeed he did, he loved the Prince, he was sure of it. 

Once more, the minstrel began to speak.

“I love you, Prince. I have long known. But I fear to tether you to me. Are you sure of your love? Are you sure it is true?”

The Prince placed a hand to the minstrel's chest.

“I am certain of it, my heart belongs here.”

The prince kissed the minstrel, so tender, so sweet, the purest of princely kisses.

Oh, what a feeling it was, such love that flowed between them! 

It was in that moment of true and shared love that the curse of the sorcerer was lifted. The minstrel's heart returned to him, and at once he pulled away with a gasp.

“My name!” he cried joyously. “I know my name!”

“Then tell it to me.” the Prince urged. “I wish to call you by it.”

In a voice ever quiet, so that only those present would hear, the minstrel spoke his name.

“I am called Wolfgang Grimmer.”

The Prince kissed the minstrel a second time.

“Will you remain by my side, Wolfgang Grimmer?”

The minstrel took both of the Prince’s hands in his own.

“I shall, Prince Kenzo Tenma, now and always.”

Just as there had not been such a sorrow in the sanctuary before, never had the Witch’s woods seen a love so true. 

As promised, the Witch of the woods produced a flower - a rose of the softest pink, delicate to the touch, whose petals would cure any disease.

“Take this,” she said, “and give it to your ailing mother. It is a gift from me to you, my Prince, for all you have done for these woods. Please journey safely to your land.”

The witch then turned to the minstrel. “I bear no gifts for you, but my protection in your travels. I shall not allow the Queen nor my evil brother to hinder you as you go. Be along, and make haste.”

“I thank you,” said the Prince.

“As do I,” said the minstrel.

Together, and with the minstrel’s foundling sons, they began their journey to the Eastern kingdom, where the Prince presented to his Queen Mother both the flower of health and the minstrel that had saved her son’s life.

It was with warmth that Wolfgang was welcomed into the new land, he and his sons well cared for and fed, the Eastern kingdom ever thankful for his deeds.

When at last it was announced that the Prince and the minstrel were to be wed, the joy was shared by all within the palace, for who could ever look upon such a loving pair with anything but well wishes and gladness?

The minstrel had protected the Prince’s heart from the wicked sorcerer, only to be the one to claim it through such tender feelings; and he, who had lost his heart to dark magic, had found it restored by the love of the Prince.

It was just as the Prince had said. All was well.

**Author's Note:**

> Most important end note here: Heckel deserved better...
> 
> Idk where the heart devouring Johan came from but cool…anyway yeah have some weird af fairytale thing...I guess.
> 
> Also the particular magic roses Nina and Johan created have significance; blue roses represent "desire for the unattainable" (I want you but I can't have you) - Johan was a jerk lol. And pink roses represent affection/joy/gratitude. Much more wholesome.


End file.
